When the Past Catches Up: My Battle with PTSD

 When the Past Catches Up: My Battle with PTSD

It hit me like a freight train, a sudden onslaught of emotions I couldn't control, memories I couldn't escape. After decades of service as a firefighter, paramedic, and in various roles in the military and law enforcement, I thought I had a handle on stress, on crisis intervention. But PTSD doesn't care about your training or your experience. It blindsides you, leaving you reeling and questioning everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Growing up in a military family in cold-war Europe, I was no stranger to adversity. I spent over 20 years in the USAF, serving in deployments from Desert Storm to Operation New Dawn. I faced mortar and rocket attacks in Baghdad, running firefighting operations while dodging danger at every turn. Through it all, I prided myself on being the one who helped others through critical incidents, never realizing that one day I would be the one needing help.

The signs were there, subtle at first, easily dismissed as stress from the job. But then came the panic attacks, brutal and unrelenting, leaving me gasping for air, my heart racing as if it would burst from my chest. The constant anxiety gnawed at me, a relentless companion that I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried. And worst of all was the feeling of not trusting my own decisions, second-guessing every move I made, terrified that I would make a mistake that would cost someone their life.

Physically, it's excruciating. My muscles tense and spasm, my body going rigid as if bracing for impact. I break out into a cold sweat, shivering despite the heat of the moment. Nausea churns in the pit of my stomach, threatening to betray me in the most humiliating way possible. It's as if every nerve in my body is on fire, screaming out in agony with each passing second.

But perhaps the most terrifying part is the feeling of helplessness, of being trapped in my own mind with no way out. It's like being locked in a room with no windows or doors, the darkness pressing in on all sides until it's all I can see, all I can feel. And no matter how hard I try to escape, to claw my way back to reality, I'm always dragged back down into the abyss.

Thankfully, I'm not facing this battle alone. With the help of a therapist, I've been exploring techniques like Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), delving deep into the recesses of my mind to confront the events that haunt me. It's not easy, dredging up memories I've spent years trying to bury, but it's a necessary step on the road to healing.

Each session is a rollercoaster of emotions, a whirlwind of pain and fear and hope. But with each passing day, I feel a little stronger, a little more capable of facing the demons that lurk within. And while the road ahead may be long and treacherous, I refuse to let fear dictate my life any longer.

So to anyone out there struggling with PTSD and panic attacks, know that you're not alone. Reach out, seek help, and never give up on yourself. Together, we can face our demons head-on and emerge victorious on the other side.